


when the night has come and the land is dark

by radianceofthefuture



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Motown, Slow Dancing, The Music Of Ben E. King
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 04:34:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15235431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radianceofthefuture/pseuds/radianceofthefuture
Summary: Grantaire runs through the checklist in his mind. Combeferre and Jehan are asleep. Bahorel is back at his parents’ house, spending time with his ailing grandmother. Therefore, by process of elimination, the person sitting up in the kitchen at one in the morning listening to The Temptations has to be Enjolras.





	when the night has come and the land is dark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bagelgladiator](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bagelgladiator/gifts).



> Sometimes bagelgladiator posts things on Tumblr and I get ideas. This is the result of that.

Grantaire rubs his eyes, sitting up in bed. A look at his clock confirms exactly what he suspects; he’s been lying in bed for about four hours, and sleep has yet to present itself.

He decides there’s nothing for it, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and trying to talk himself into standing up. He’s been trying for weeks to get onto a healthier sleep schedule to appease Joly, but every time he gets close, reaches the point where he can pass out head-to-pillow, there’s always something that throws him off. Tonight, it’s the indistinct but still unmistakeable sound of classic R&B, playing on their kitchen radio at just the right volume to worm itself into his dreams.

Grantaire opens his bedroom door as quietly as he can. The music may have woken him up, but he can hear Combeferre and Jehan snoring softly from their respective bedrooms, and God knows they need all the sleep they can get.

Grantaire runs through the checklist in his mind. Combeferre and Jehan are asleep. Bahorel is back at his parents’ house, spending time with his ailing grandmother. Therefore, by process of elimination, the person sitting up in the kitchen at one in the morning listening to The Temptations has to be Enjolras.

There is light escaping from the crack under the kitchen door. Grantaire takes a moment to consider whether a healthy sleep schedule is really worth intruding on whatever the hell Enjolras is doing in there, or whether a better idea would be to just go back to his room and make a note to invest in a pair of earplugs.

“To hell with it,” he mutters. Grantaire lives here, too, after all; a little peace in the wee hours of the morning is not too much to ask. Enjolras is a conscientious roommate. He’ll understand.

Grantaire swings the kitchen door open.

When he enters the room, he is greeted by the sight of Enjolras in a faded ACLU t-shirt and pink flannel pajama bottoms, eating dry Honey Nut Cheerios with a fork and bouncing his sock-clad foot softly along to the rhythm of the music. His hair looks like a cloud. Grantaire doesn’t know whether he wants to take his picture or cry.

Enjolras blinks up at him. “It’s one in the morning.”

“Wow, really?” Grantaire answers him. He means for it to be sarcastic, but it really just comes out impossibly fond.

Enjolras’ brow furrows. He’s giving Grantaire that inquistive puppy face he does, the one that means he can’t quite figure something out, but he’s doing his best to remedy the situation.

“Why are you awake?”

“I could very easily ask the same of you,” Grantaire says, cheeky. The face intensifies; if Grantaire weren’t so damn weak over Enjolras, he’d probably describe it as a pout. Seeing as Grantaire is unlikely to ever be anything but weak over Enjolras, though, it’s just cute. He softens under the weight of it.

“It’s the music,” he says, tilting his head to indicate where their battered old radio sits in a corner. “I couldn’t quite get to sleep.”

Enjolras’ face shifts from puzzled bemusement to mortification. “Oh, my God, I’m so sorry,” he says, rising from the table and starting towards it. “I didn’t even think about that, I just - you know, sometimes there are days where the only thing that can make things better is Motown, and I didn’t even consider that it might keep you up.”

“It’s okay,” Grantaire finds himself saying, rushing to stop Enjolras. “I know what you’re talking about, I have those days a lot. Just keep it a little quieter next time, okay?”

Enjolras blushes, and Grantaire is suddenly very conscious that in stopping Enjolras from crossing to turn off the radio, he’d accidentally pulled him very close to himself. Now, he’s standing with one arm around Enjolras’ waist and the other on his bicep, and he’s close enough to count those fair, curling eyelashes.

“What happened?” Grantaire asks, because if he doesn’t break the spell somehow, he’s going to hit the ground head-first. Enjolras tilts his head, not quite grasping the question.

“To upset you,” Grantaire clarifies. “What made you decide to sit up and listen to Diana Ross in the middle of the night?”

Enjolras’ mouth twists downwards, and his eyes go stormy. There’s something beautiful about the kind of fury Enjolras can harness; it sucks the breath right out of you.

“These assholes in my philosophy class,” he explains. His voice is low, but every word is alive with scarlet thunder. “They didn’t like what I had to say about the material, even though it was pretty clear they hadn’t read it. Some of the things they said to me...” he scoffs, but there’s a certain liquid glint to his eye.

Grantaire breathes in, shaky. “Christ, Angel,” he says. “I don’t understand how the hell you don’t lose faith when you’re faced with this shit. Some of these people...” he shakes his head. “I just don’t understand how you can do it.”

“Every day,” Enjolras starts, then breathes in, eyes closed, and collects himself before starting over again. “Every day, I just have to tell myself that as time goes by, there are steadily getting to be more of us and less of them. I truly believe that. Every day, the world swings a little closer to the light.”

His eyes are wide, and so earnest Grantaire might just melt from it. Behind his head, the open curtains on the window reveal a cloudless night sky. The stars shine brightly enough to rival the dawn.

The song on the radio changes, and Enjolras’ face softens. Grantaire realises that they are still very close. He moves to step away, but Enjolras stops him, catching him at the wrist.

“Wait,” he says. His eyes put the stars to shame; something in Grantaire’s chest hurts when he looks at him too closely, but he can’t quite tear himself away. When Enjolras smiles a second later, it’s nothing short of devastating.

“Dance with me, R,” he breathes, and Grantaire is powerless to refuse.

They sway, and Enjolras, always so endearing, sings along under his breath.

“So darling, darling, stand by me...”

And then they’re kissing, and Enjolras tastes like sunlight.

It’s just about the easiest thing in the world. Grantaire can’t think of a single reason why they didn’t do this sooner.

But then again, he thinks, as Enjolras smiles down at him in elation, it was bound to happen sooner or later.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from ”Stand By Me” by Ben E. King.


End file.
